Baker's Dozen
by firstadream
Summary: "This was one of the things I only learned after living with her for two months: Sometimes, on nights when she couldn't sleep, Holly baked bread." Four snapshots of Gail and Holly's life together.
1. I

_Disclaimer: This is pure fluff/sexy times…basically PWP, so if you're not into that sort of thing, this story might not be for you. _

—

Baker's Dozen

—

I.

The day before we hear our baby's heartbeat for the first time, I find her kneading bread in the kitchen at 4 AM, her hair in a messy bun, her body covered by nothing but a long, loose-fitting t-shirt.

This was one of the things I only learned after living with her for two months: Sometimes, on nights when she couldn't sleep, Holly baked bread.

The first time I found her, I watched from the doorway until she placed the bread in the oven, then I pressed her against the counter and made her come, fast and hard. I didn't know what I was doing. I loved her so much I felt like I was coming apart.

It's been almost eight years now. Her wedding ring glints in the soft light as her fingers gently work the dough. I can just make out the curve of her slightly swollen abdomen whenever the fabric of her t-shirt brushes against her skin. Fourteen weeks tomorrow. My chest tightens slightly, an echo of that old urgency that frightened me at first.

I push away from the doorway and wrap my arms around her from behind. I press one hand low on her stomach; cup her hip firmly with the other. She gasps softly when I lean against her, my mouth pressed to her shoulder.

"You okay?" I ask, my fingers moving in slow circles over the gentle curve of her belly.

She presses back into my body, her hands momentarily stilling on the dough. "Couldn't sleep," she whispers. Her breath hitches when my fingertips dip down to the delta between her thighs, pressing gently before retreating. "_Jesus_."

"Mmm," I rumble. "You need your sleep. Maybe there's something I can do about that."

"You think?" she mumbles, rocking indolently in my arms, the curve of her ass pressed to my crotch.

"Make your bread, baby," I tell her.

Slowly, she begins to knead the bread again. I run my hands over her stomach and thighs, the pressure soothing rather than arousing, until I feel her relax back into my arms. Then I run my hands up her sides and cup her breasts in my palms, brushing my thumbs across her nipples.

Her breasts, already sensitive from pregnancy, swell with arousal and grow heavy in my hands. Her fingers spasm slightly around the dough, a soft whimper escaping her lips. "_Gail_," she gasps.

"Shh," I murmur, waiting for her to relax into my embrace before beginning to massage her breasts, subtly mimicking the motion of her own hands as they work the bread. "Feel good?"

She tilts her head back against my shoulder, letting out a long shuddering breath. "So good," she breathes. "I love you."

"Love you too," I murmur.

"Let me get this in the oven," she says, her voice low and husky. "I want to feel you everywhere."

I force myself to take a step back, even though all I want to do is hold her against me, touch her until she's trembling in my arms. But more than that I want whatever _she _wants.

A couple minutes later, the bread is baking and Holly is leading me back into our bedroom. She pushes me towards the bed. "Take off your clothes," she orders.

I push down my panties and step out of them, before pulling my light cotton tee up and over my head. I watch the desire ripple across her face as she takes in my body. After so many years in the police force, it's hard and lean—but I never lost the soft curves at my hips and backside.

"Lie down," she says.

I comply, sitting on the edge of the bed, before scooting back across the comforter and settling into the nest of pillows in front of the headboard. Holly slips off her panties and pulls off her shirt, and I can't help but groan at the full, ripeness of her breasts, her dusky brown nipples hard as stones. "Jesus, Hol," I whisper throatily.

Holly crosses to the bed and immediately lowers herself against my body. She eases her swollen center against my thigh, letting out a sharp hiss at the sudden pressure against her heated flesh. "Oh, god," she groans, rocking slowly against my leg. "That feels so good."

I grip her hips gently as she moves over me, letting her dictate the pressure and speed. When her thrusts become slightly erratic, her eyes slipping shut, lips parting in pleasure, I sit up abruptly and pull her close, effectively stilling her movements. She lets out a helpless whine, her hips jerking against my stomach. "I'm so close, babe," she gasps into my ear.

"I know," I soothe. "Soon. I want to feel you."

She only nods and presses her to my neck as I trail my hand between our bodies to cup her gently. She moans softly in the back of her throat, her fingers opening and closing on my shoulders. When I slip inside her, her back arches and she tilts her head back, her lower lip caught between her teeth.

I pull almost all the way out before pressing back in, simultaneously manipulating her clit with the heel of my hand. Almost immediately, I feel her muscles contract around me.

"Oh god, _god_," she stutters. "I'm…I'm coming."

She cries out sharply once and jerks against me, her body shuddering with the force of the release. She slumps forward and I catch her against me, feeling the subtle shift of her hips as the last shocks of pleasure vibrate through her.

She presses her face into my neck and inhales deeply. "Mm," she hums, her voice sleepy and contented. "You smell good."

I smile and press my lips to her temple, before lying back down on the bed and pulling her with me. She settles against my side with a contented sigh and immediately drapes an arm and a leg across my body. The gesture is unconsciously possessive, born from thousands of nights spent in each other's arms.

"I'm falling asleep," she announces suddenly, pressing a sleepy kiss to the edge of my jaw. "I'm sorry."

"That's okay," I tell her. "Just sleep."

She relaxes against me and sighs; a moment later, she's asleep. I pull the comforter up higher around both of us and run my fingers through her long, dark hair, before finally succumbing to sleep with my wife in my arms and the smell of warming bread in the air.

—

_Hope you guys enjoyed this bit of purely self-indulgent PWP. I'm going to try to post a new installment every other day—every two days at the latest. I already have about six written. _

_Leave me a review to let me know what you think! Oh, and I have no idea where the whole baking bread thing came from. Just thought I'd give Holly a special talent that I could riff on. _


	2. II

II.

"Hol?"

Holly glances up from the dough in her hands and smiles at me softly. "Hey, babe," she murmurs, her voice low and rough.

I watch her hands as they knead the bread slowly, methodically. I shiver. I know those fingers, have watched them work, felt them deep inside me. But I've never seen them move in this way. I've never seen _Holly _move in this way.

It isn't just her hands. Her whole body has gone liquid, swaying, unconsciously sensuous. For the first time, I notice that she's wearing only a loose-fitting t-shirt, short enough to make it evident she isn't wearing anything underneath.

My fingers twitch. I want to go to her, pull her against my body, put my hands everywhere. But I wait. Wait until Holly puts the bread in the oven to bake, takes off her oven mitts, turns to regard me silently.

Then I cross the room in three long strides and pin her against the counter. I press my hips hard in the v of her legs. "Oh god," she stutters, shuddering in my arms. "I'm already…Oh—I'm close."

"Mmm," I growl, loving her responsiveness. I press my bare thigh between her legs, feeling the wet slick of arousal against my skin. "I can tell."

"You walked into the room and I could—_oh_—I could feel you. I got so wet."

I lean forward to nip at her full lower lip as I trail my hand down her abdomen, brushing my fingertips through the damp curls at the apex of her thighs. Holly's breath stutters in her chest. "More, please."

I press closer, slide my fingers between her lips, slip inside. Her eyes slam shut, a helpless whimper escaping her throat as her muscles immediately clamp down around my fingers. "Oh—I'm coming," she breathes, pushing hard against my hand. "I'm—"

I lean forward to suck on her neck gently and she immediately goes rigid, crying out as the unexpected orgasm crashes through her.

"Oh yeah," I sigh happily, pressing my lips to the slightly salty skin at her jaw, my tongue flicking over a small spot of flour. "Since when do you bake bread at three AM?"

Holly presses her face into my neck and inhales deeply. "Mmm," she hums distractedly. "I do every once in a while."

"That's not really an answer."

"Helps me think," she murmurs.

"Does it?" I ask conversationally. I tug on her t-shirt and guide her to one of the kitchen chairs. She sits down and I straddle her lap, but keep a couple inches between our bodies. "Do you want to do some thinking right now?"

Holly regards me steadily and I know what she must see—blue eyes darkening to midnight, face soft with arousal. I press my palm to the center of her chest and feel her heartbeat, steady beneath my fingertips. I feel utterly safe and utterly wanted and hope she feels the same. I'm still not used to what she does to me, the way she softens me, clearing away all the hardness that's built up like rubble over the years.

"No thinking," she murmurs, pulling my hips forward until I sink into her lap, ass fitted snugly in her crotch.

I gasp, arching into her body, shuddering at the press of her pelvic bone against my clit. "I can help with that," I pant, slowly rocking against her. I'd meant to make her wait, make her beg, but she feels so good and I can't help the restless shifting of my hips.

The first bursts of heat spark deep in my belly and I know I need to slow down. But then Holly reaches between our bodies to gently grip my breasts. I feel my breasts swell against her palms; my hips spasm at the swift of jolt pleasure, and I know I'm lost.

"Shit, I'm coming," I groan as I rock back and forth in her lap. "Oh, I am, I'm—"

I feel my body go rigid, my eyes slamming shut at the surge of pleasure. I whimper softly, my mouth pressed to her ear. My hips jerk as the last bursts of release jolt through my body.

"Jeez, Hol," I mutter. "You should bake bread more often."


	3. III

_Here's the third installment of this little PWP adventure. Enjoy!_

—

III.

I wake up slowly, awareness seeping in gradually. My thighs tighten, the slow bloom of release already beginning in my stomach. I reach down with one hand and press my fingers to Holly's cheek. "_God_, baby," I groan, arching helplessly into her mouth.

She hums contentedly, and I squirm at the vibrations against my sensitive flesh. She sucks gently, lifting me higher and higher until I begin to come in her mouth, then she lifts two fingers and presses them into me, past the telltale tightness of my contracting muscles, to the spot that always makes me come.

My body shudders, back arching helplessly, and I come endlessly, at the mercy of her knowing fingers and mouth. When she finally stops, I feel boneless and sated and like I never want to move again.

She crawls up my body and presses against me, fitting a thigh between my legs. She rocks against me, coating my skin with the sheen of arousal. I manage to lift my heavy arms to pinch lightly at her nipples. She presses closer and I tense my thigh muscle, giving her the extra pressure she needs to tip her over the edge.

She drops her head forward, her body shuddering with the last ripples of pleasure, before sinking into me. I turn on my side and she spoons into me, sliding her hand over the dip of my waist, the curve of my hip, then down over my smooth abdomen.

My muscles flicker at her touch and I feel her smile against my shoulder. "Morning, wife," she mumbles, her lips moving against the soft skin behind my ear.

I laugh, still a little breathless. "Morning, wife." I pause, sighing softly at her gently questing mouth. "I guess married sex isn't so bad."

"Mmm," she hums. "Not bad at all."

—

"It's always better when you make it by yourself," I murmur as I reach for another piece of toast and spread jam over it.

She gives me a look over the rim of her coffee mug. "That's because when you _help_ me, I end up getting distracted by other activities."

"Other activities, huh?" I murmur, waggling my eyebrows suggestively. "You mean mind-blowing orgasms provided by _yours truly?_"

"I married a raging narcissist…" she mutters.

"At least I walk the walk," I return.

"Yes, you do," she murmurs.

She lifts eyes to mine that are suddenly dark with desire. She stands from her chair, rounds the table, and is in my lap a moment later. She rocks against me slowly, before leaning forward and running her mouth along my jaw. "You really do," she purrs, inhaling sharply when I grip her backside to help her press against me.

"I may have also married a nymphomaniac," she gasps, shivering slightly in my arms.

"I was just gonna say the same thing," I murmur, bowing my head forward to catch her nipple in my mouth, flicking it teasingly through the thin fabric of her t-shirt.

She arches into me, lifting into my mouth. "You're the one making me come," she points out between breaths that are nearly sobs.

"_You're _the one coming," I counter, reaching between our bodies to press hard against her clit with two fingers.

She immediately tenses in my arms, crying out sharply, before shuddering against me for long moments after. Finally, she melts into me and presses her face to my neck.

"Christ. I can't believe I'm not used to you yet," she mutters, her voice dripping with so much sleepy satisfaction that I can't help but grin. "Mmm," she hums. "You smell good."

"Thank you," I murmur, chuckling into her hair. I run my hands over her back slowly, before moving them down to gently grip her ass. I shift underneath her, my body still thundering with arousal. She gasps softly, kisses me hard.

"How am I supposed to bake bread around you when I can't even make it through breakfast without climbing on top of you?"

I blink up at her, my head still fuzzy with desire. "Oh…I forgot…" I swallow hard and grip her hips. "We were…talking about bread? I love your bread."

She giggles at me and I suddenly can't stand how beautiful she is. I reach up to grip the back of her neck and pull her mouth against mine. "I love you," I breathe into her lips. "So much."

"Good." She grins at me. "Now shut up and let me make you come."

—

_Hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think if you've got a minute to spare. :)_


	4. IV

_Thank you to everyone who is still reading this! I'm going to try to be better about updating it from now on. _

—

"You're going to have to relax for this part."

"I am relaxed."

"Gail."

"_Holly._"

She looks at me for a long moment. "What is _with _you?"

I immediately drop my gaze, willing the inevitable blush to go away. What am I supposed to say? _Sorry, Hol, but you're so sexy it's distracting me_. I feel like that won't go over very well. I already feel like a pre-pubescent boy as it is.

"Nothing, I just…" I swallow and force myself to look away from her chest. Her white v-neck is worn thin, bordering on see-through. I can make out the pretty lace bra she's wearing. "Long day," I manage to say through a throat tight with desire.

It actually isn't a lie. It _has_ been a long day. Frustrating and exhausting. Then I walked into Holly's apartment and she rounded the corner grinning, looking _so_ beautiful and I couldn't control the swift surge of desire.

But she wanted to teach me how to bake bread, so that's what we're doing.

Except I can't stop staring at her boobs and my body is wound so tight I feel like I might snap in half.

Holly turns away from the counter and focuses all her attention on me. She reaches out and grips my shoulders, spinning my body towards her so she can look directly into my eyes.

"You're so tense," she murmurs, running her warm hands along my arms. She blinks, her eyes suddenly dark and worried. "Are you angry with me?"

My lust is immediately forgotten in the face of her insecurity. "What? No, baby, no," I quickly reassure her. "Of course not. What would make you think that?"

I pull her close and she tucks herself against my body. "You just seemed kind of distant. Scared me for a second," she admits into my neck.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart," I whisper. _God, I'm an idiot._

She sighs softly at the endearment, the sound nearly a purr, and I'm suddenly very aware of her mouth against my throat, hot breath and soft lips. "Holly?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm definitely not mad at you, but you might need to take a step back."

She lifts her head to look at me, her brow furrowed. She leans back in my embrace, her hips pressed tightly against mine. "Why's that?"

I groan softly as she rocks in my arms, unconsciously seductive. "Because I _want_ you," I finally say, my voice undeniably strained.

"Oh," she breathes, slightly stunned. Then she grins. "_Oh_," she says again. Now she just looks pleased—maybe even a little smug. "Maybe we should take care of that, hm?"

I automatically press closer, fitting myself against her body. I'm thrumming with desire already, beyond aroused, and now she's slipping her hand under the back of my shirt, pressing her palm to my lower back, molding me against her as she molds her mouth against mine. I groan quietly at the sweet taste of her mouth, cracking a grin despite the sharp ache of need in the pit of my stomach.

"God, you taste so good." I nip at her lower lip, swipe my tongue inside. I glance over her shoulder to the glass bottle resting on the counter. "Lemonade, baby? No wonder you're so sweet."

She giggles, her face bright, so beautiful and warm and responsive. "I love you, Hol." The words tumble out of my mouth before I can think to hold them back. When she doesn't immediately say anything, I drop my eyes, the apology already forming on my lips.

But then she's leaning close, her mouth ghosting across my cheek, my temple, along my hairline. Her hands slide over my shoulders and down to my ass and I can't hold in the whimper of pleasure bubbles up when she rocks me hard against her thigh.

She holds my gaze, her eyes bright and intensely focused. "I love you, too," she breathes, ghosting her lips over mine, encouraging the increasingly urgent movement of my hips. "I love you so much."

"Hol…I…Oh _god—_" My eyes slam shut as my body goes rigid, the unexpected orgasm blooming deep in my belly before I can hold it back. But I don't want to hold it back. I don't want to hold anything back. I press my face to her throat, shivering with pure, raw, uninhibited pleasure.

She holds me tightly, her hands running up and down my back, her touch soothing now rather than arousing. "I'm here, baby," she rumbles in my ear and I shiver again when she nips at my earlobe possessively. "Always."

"Mmm," I hum, leaning back and grinning at the predatory glint in her eyes. "You know what I want?"

"What?" she asks, her gaze fixed on my mouth, then lower—my chest, my nipples that I know are hard and probably visible through my thin shirt.

I press impossibly closer and rake my teeth down her neck, delighting in the groan of need that Holly can't hold in. "I really, _really_ want you to…" I pause and her breath catches, her body tightening in anticipation. "…teach me how to bake bread."

She goes still. "Huh?"

I laugh and press a kiss to her befuddled mouth. "Let's bake bread. Then I want to make love to you."

Her deep brown eyes spark with happiness and arousal, and her kiss is a different kind of sweet when she kisses me this time.


End file.
